Not For The Weak

Getting a Move On

Roanna was uncomfortable in the silence, and wasn’t sure what to do. 

So she went with what was natural.

“Can we go now?” she asked.

They left quickly, Roanna getting nothing. 

As they came further and further along in line, she picked up her messenger bag and pulled out her boarding pass.

The woman at the kiosk looked at the pass, and then at her ID, and then did the dreaded double check.

“Roanna Davencourt?” She asked nervously, eyes darting all around her; like she was looking for something to defend herself with. 

Hurt shot into Roanna’s heart, a pain as old and familiar to her as a pain in her limb. Going into offense, she flushed the hurt from her mind. 

Roanna leaned forward, menacing on purpose and gave the woman a vicious smile.

“I won’t kill anyone. I promise,” She whispered in a deadly tone.

The woman was paralyzed by fear, Roanna’s newly stamped boarding pass in her unmoving hand.

Roanna plucked it out and gave her a bright, sunny, totally false smile.

“Thank you!” she chirped as she headed into the pass into the plane, Erin walking behind her and emanating disapproval.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Erin. It was funny,” Roanna said with a shrug as she settled into her seat.

“It was cruel, Ro,” Erin said, fighting to conceal a smile as she recalled the frozen look on the poor woman’s face.

She found it hilarious, but she hoped that it didn’t scare Brianna or her entourage.

The others settled into their seats comfortably, and Roanna was relieved yet secretly disappointed when Jack’s ticket had him sitting across the cabin, and Roanna’s ticket gave her the window seat next to Claude.

 “So, where are we going now?” Claude asked, his slight European accent incredibly sexy.

“We’re taking this plane to the French Guiana, right next to the Brazilian border,” She said, returning with a flirtatious smile.

Claude was tall, obviously occasional bodybuilder, and had a short, spiky cap of blonde hair over a strong-boned face and big blue eyes.

He was every woman’s dream.

They chatted for a few minutes, talking about absolutely nothing, until Jack came over and bent over to speak to them.

“Claude, the sun is really killing my eyes over there; I’ve got a killer migraine. You mind trading?” he asked, utterly charming and believable.

Claude gave a regretful look to Roanna, but he had no choice but to do what Jack asked of him. He took his backpack with him as he sat by Brianna, and stroke up a conversation with her easily. 

Jack settled into his seat easily, and Roanna purposely kept her gaze out the window.

“Hello, Roanna,” Jack said huskily.

Roanna felt a tug in her stomach at the way he used her name. Instead of the business-like tone other people said it with; he said it slowly, making it sound romantic.

Roanna rolled her head to look at him.

“Hello, Jackson,” She said in a tone one might use with the village idiot.

“What were you talking about with the knucklehead over there?” he asked idly.

Roanna raised a skeptical brow and laughed.